


Fills My Head Up (Louder and Louder)

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Series: Dark Month Collection [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fae & Fairies, France (Country), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-03 23:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shisui doesn't believe in folk tales. He doesn't believe in Roswell, or ghosts, or Santa Claus and he definitely doesn't believe in fairies. Until he meets one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fills My Head Up (Louder and Louder)

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Month 2010, Day 7, for kiss_me_cait23 -- Shisui/Itachi, GD, Leanan Sidhe!Itachi. "Leanan Sidhe is the famous Celtic muse with such a dark and incomparable beauty that her lover was often distraught with longing and suffering for her absence. Corporeal to the beloved artist she chose as her mate, sometimes the Leanan Sidhe took the form of a woman, who gave men valour and strength in battle thanks to her songs. It is said that those inspired by it live brilliant, though short, lives."
> 
> This is not what I was aiming for at all when I first got the prompt, so I have to apologize if this isn't quite what you wanted. I have this weakness though, for creatures like this still being around nowadays and um. Itachi wanted to live in Paris. IDEK. Woefully unbeta'd, so if you catch errors, let me know? Fun facts that no one really cares about: [This](http://media.photobucket.com/image/male%20fairy/hernebc/Assorted%2520Pagan/MaleFairy.jpg) is the inspiration behind the photo that Shisui took and [this](http://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/01/e8/17/20/lesecure.jpg) is Lescure.

Shisui doesn't believe in folk tales. He doesn't believe in Roswell, or ghosts, or Santa Claus and he definitely doesn't believe in fairies.  
  
Until he meets one.  
  
They meet somewhere between Ginsburg and Kerouac, Shisui searching for a copy of _Desolation Angels_ that _isn't_ completely covered in month old coffee stains and Itachi perched on a rolling ladder a few feet away, arm outstretched towards a wayward copy of _Indian Journals._  
  
He's already got a stack of books on Vivian Maier tucked under one arm and is just about ready to give up his search when he sees him.  
  
Itachi is beautiful, ethereal and elegant- paler than moonlight with hair the color of raven feathers. Dark, dark eyes, and there may not be wings to give him away but Shisui knows the moment he sets eyes on him that the creature before him isn't human.  
  
Which makes it a difficult thing indeed when Itachi finally closes pale fingers around the book and tilts his head just a fraction of the inch to the right- just enough for their eyes to line up. Itachi smiles, cool and reserved, maybe just a little bit shy. There's something soft and pleased lurking at the corner of his smile, and Shisui feels like he's falling.  
  
There are words all around them, books heaped upon books because this is the good library, the one downtown and not the crappy local branch that only keeps stock of reprint after reprint of Twilight. There are words and worlds, similes and metaphors, page after page of treasure chests and subway stations and worlds within wardrobes, and even though there's a whole universe of thought opening to him right now, a hundred thousand ways to say _You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen_ Shisui can't think of a single thing to say aloud.  
  
Instead, he lets the words guide him, stumbling and tripping over himself in an attempt to somehow get out a question that should be easy. A simple, "Hey, wanna get some coffee?" that eludes him, laughingly sidestepping his grasping fingers and whirls away, leaving him stumbling after it and rambling about why _Satori in Paris_ is better than _On the Road._  
  
The boy, this _creature_ seems quietly amused though- one eyebrow raised in either incredulity or delight, Shisui can't quite be sure and it finally comes out, shuddering and sloppy.  
  
"So. Coffee? Do you like it?"  
  
The boy nods, lips twitching with suppressed mirth. "I do," he says, nodding as he slides a book from the shelves. Shisui can feel himself going hot with embarrassment.  
  
"Ah, well, would you like to get some with me? Maybe?"  
  
The boy smiles and brushes a lock of hair out of his face, tucks it back behind one flawless ear. Says quietly, "Perhaps I should know your name before I accept?" He taps a pen against his bottom lip, bites down on the tip and turns back to the bookshelves. Calls over his shoulder, "Mine is Itachi."  
  
"Oh, Uh, yeah. It's Shisui."  
  
Another book is slid back onto its proper shelf and Itachi scribbles something onto the pad of paper he's holding.  
  
"Well, Shisui, how do you feel about waiting?"  
  
There are words and worlds all around him, a metaphor wrapped in a puzzle before him, so yes, he thinks he'll probably be okay with waiting.  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
Time passes more slowly, when you're waiting for something. By the time Itachi's shift is through, coffee is pretty much a moot point, so instead, he drags Itachi to the little place hidden behind the main street by the Louvre.  
  
The place is cozy, albeit a bit crowded, and the warm, orange glow settles over them like a blanket- softens Itachi's cheekbones and makes Shisui _itch_ for his camera. Somewhere, Frank Sinatra croons about wanting to see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars. "So, what brings you to Paris?" he hedges, stirring his Des gésiers confits around his plate in a way that would surely have his mother turning in her grave.  
  
Itachi's lips quirk into a small smile, like he knows something that Shisui doesn't, and answers, "You." Quiet, matter of fact, and somehow not creepy at all.  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
"...I thought fairies were supposed to have wings?"  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
Itachi's hair looks beautiful when it's down- spread across his pillows like ink, lashes fluttering against pale cheeks. He's on his side, the sheets rucked up about his hips, revealing a stretch of dainty feet, milk pale thighs, and the faintest suggestion of the tapering curve to his waist.  
  
Sometimes, when he's really sleeping, Itachi forgets to breathe.  
  
Shisui likes to watch him, let the absence of breath wash over his collarbone, the cool tickle of nothingness intriguing enough by itself. It reminds him of how surreal this situation really is, even as adulation chokes him from the inside.  
  
Itachi stirs, a low gasping breath rattling in his lungs once his slowly wakening mind remembers that this guise is supposed to be breathing. A smile comes unbidden to Shisui's lips and he raises the camera, lets it focus on the slide of downy hair against a flawless collarbone- the off white of the sheets beneath him and- _click_.  
  
Eyes flutter open, and for a fraction of a second they're a virulent crimson before they darken back into shades of gray. A smile unfurls across pale lips, and Itachi curls closer to him. "Mmm, I thought you were supposed to be in class today?"  
  
Shisui doesn't take his eyes off that familiar grin, and tucks himself back under the covers- kissing the top of Itachi's head as he goes.  
  
"No, I'm not."  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
"I got the job, I got the job, I got the job!"  
  
Startled, Itachi looks up from his spot on the couch, a worn copy of _One Hundred Years of Solitude_ sliding down his belly and off the couch, where it thunks dejectedly onto the shoddy carpet. His eyes are wide, the irises like blood, and Shisui laughs a bit, because it isn't every day that he can startle Itachi.  
  
Grinning, he shrugs off his coat and lets the door swing shut behind him. "Which job?" Itachi asks, shaking his head a bit to clear the sleep from his expression. It slides off him like cobwebs, leaving him cool and composed once more.  
  
Shisui lets out a cry of dismay. " _THE_ job, Itachi. The one that I've been prattling about for weeks!"  
  
He laughs ecstatically, waltzing over so he can whisk Itachi off the sofa and into an impromptu twirl around the room. Itachi chuckles quietly, the sound muffled into Shisui's chest when he says, "Ah, _that_ job."  
  
The room smells like cookies and the promise of snow that has chased him through the door, and Itachi is a welcome presence pressed close to his side. Shisui is happier than he's been in years. Slowly, he stops spinning- wraps his arms around blanketed shoulders and buries his chilled nose into the crook of Itachi's neck.  
  
"It's all thanks to you, y'know."  
  
Itachi laughs, and it sounds like bells. "Of course it was," Itachi mutters quietly, tucking his hands into Shisui's back pockets. They sway together for a minute longer, and Shisui slowly pulls away, stroking his knuckles along the slope of Itachi's jaw. "It really is. It was the photo shoot we took in the woods, yanno, the one where-"  
  
Itachi rolls his eyes fondly, "Yes, I remember."  
  
And how could he forget. Itachi pale and translucent, bare limbs wrapped around tree trunks and sprawled back into the grass- form flickering for just those couple of seconds into something no human had even seen before. Wings and dark eyes and pale, pale skin.  
  
When asked how he'd captured even the dew clinging to those gossamer wings, he'd laughed, and said something about the wonders of Photoshop, but really, that didn't do them justice. The texture beneath his palm, the light frailty of them, and no, even Photoshop couldn't fake such a thing.  
  
  
  
.  
  
  
  
"The stars are beautiful tonight."  
  
Beside him, Itachi nods- gaze flickering up to the stars once before coming to rest on him once more. "They are," he admits, shifting his legs closer to the riverbank. He watches the water churn below them, the slick rocks and rushing water and Shisui wonders what he's thinking. It's quiet when he finally moves, turning toward Shisui, oddly serious, and saying, "I'll never leave you. I need you to know that."  
  
Shisui laughs, but it sounds strange, clogging his throat. He knows the stories. Knows the fate of the mortals that creatures like Itachi latch onto, had accepted it long ago. He shrugs, tries to be nonchalant.  
  
"I won't." Itachi presses quietly, "Not like before."  
  
Before.  
  
Itachi's has mentioned that, but whenever Shisui thinks about asking, the words die in his throat.  
  
Before.  
  
The river is loud.  
  
He smiles, brushing their toes together and propels himself onto an elbow- tugs his camera up. The water looks clearer through the lens, and he watches it tumble for a moment, wonders what it would be like to be in there, beneath all that water, sucking it up and choking on it- feeling it fill his lungs and wondering _why Itachi, why?_  
  
- _click_ -  
  
When he turns back towards Itachi, he can still taste the river water on the backs of his teeth.  
  
He smiles.  
  
It feels like drowning.


End file.
